


Napoleon's Hurtful Words Are Hurtful...

by fineandwittie



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Illya and Napoleon both think offering to kill someone for one another is a good thing, Illya is a kicked puppy, M/M, Napoleon is kind of an asshole, Period-Typical Homophobia, Prompt Fill, Sander is the biggest asshole ever, my russian smol son, napoleon is kind of a teenage girl about life, they're special like that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-20 20:54:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4801913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fineandwittie/pseuds/fineandwittie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And Sanders is a massive dick. </p><p>Prompt: Prompt: The team have been working together for a while, and Illya thinks of Solo as a friend/lover/in between. Then, somehow*, he finds out about Solo's remarks after the first time they encountered each other: "barely human," "it," etc. Illya is genuinely hurt by this, b/c he thought Solo saw him as more than a sledgehammer.  It's probably Sanders who spills the beans, in the most context-free and hurtful way possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Napoleon's Hurtful Words Are Hurtful...

**Author's Note:**

> As always, unbeta'd. This didn't turn out quite the way I wanted it to. But here it is anyway.

Sanders smirked, as he eyed Illya in distaste. “And you somehow prefer working with the thing that chased you through Berlin to members of your own agency? Solo, where is your head?”

Napoleon bristled, eyes narrowing. “Illya is—“

“Yes, I heard your series of complaints the first time. ‘Barely human,’ I believe you said? What was your exact phrase? Ah yes…You told me that I ‘should have seen it run.’ I can see where having something like this…KGB attack dog with you in the field might be useful, but really. Solo. This was only meant to be a temporary distaste. We never intended to saddle you with it permanently.”

Napoleon was so focused on not punching his immediate superior in the face that he failed to notice that look in Illya’s eyes, which were turned toward him. Sanders didn’t. His smirk widened. 

“My God, it has feelings.”

Napoleon blinked, frowning in confusion and turned to his partner. A brief wounded look flashed across Illya’s face when Napoleon met his eyes, but his face went blank a second later. Too late though. That split second expression hollowed Napoleon out, leaving his chest aching. He turned back to his superior.

Napoleon’s hands itched. He kept them clasped loosely at his back and smiled his most irritating smile. “With all due respect, sir, Illya Kuryakin is a model agent and an excellent partner. He has saved my life on more than one occasion and I’d honestly rather move to Russia and work for the KBG to remain teamed with him than spend even a single day working with the useless lackeys you call agents. Sir.”

Sanders raised an eyebrow and snorted. “Really? That loyal to a Russia dog? I wonder why? What exactly does he give you that CIA agents don’t?” He eyed Illya for a moment, eyes lingering on his crotch. “Unless you’re as bent as I always suspected you were. Tell me, Solo. Does he give it to you in your office at UNCLE or is that Brit Pansy too sensible to allow something like that?”

Illya was frowning at Sanders. Napoleon’s nostrils flared and the grin stretching his lips edged toward feral. Napoleon turned to Illya. “Peril, how difficult would it be to make a CIA agent of middling importance disappear? Do you think we could blame it on the KGB with any viability? After all, you know exactly how a KGB hit would look.”

Illya’s eyes narrowed and he examined Sanders carefully. Sanders, for his part, seemed to have realized that he picked the wrong avenue for antagonism and that he was honestly in actual danger. Illya shook his head and Sanders exhaled carefully. “Nyet. We could not make it look Russian. Could have negative effect on international tensions. Could make it look like Mossad though. Do you know what Mossad hit looks like, Cowboy?”

Sanders blinked and then rolled his eyes. “Nicknames? You’ve given each other nicknames?” He asked, before he remembered that maybe he should actively refrain from making things worse. 

Napoleon and Illya ignored him. “I do, actually. I was partnered with a Mossad agent for a short period of time a few years ago. Terrifying woman.”

Illya looked skyward, seeming to seek patience. “And you learned how they do hit, in between fucking her, yes?”

Napoleon grinned broadly. “Well, I was a little distracted. What with fucking her and fucking her Chinese contact. Delightful man, by the way. Liu Xiao? But yes, I did.”

Sander choked and Napoleon turned to him. “You know Liu Xiao?’

Sander narrowed his eyes, crossed his arms, and nodded. “Yes. I met with him several times. He’s a faggot?”

Napoleon smiled. “He does this thing, with his tongue that just—“

“Napoleon.” Illya’s voice cut through whatever Napoleon was going to say and stopped his mouth. Illya so rarely called him by his given name, rarely abused the privilege that no one else has. His mother was long dead after all. He turned to Illya, mouth shut, and cocked an eyebrow. 

“My god…You shut him up. That’s…not something I thought was possible.”

The two UNCLE agents ignored him again. Illya tilted his head. “We kill him or not?”

Napoleon considered this for a moment and then sighed. “Not, I’m afraid. That would be me slipping the leash for the noose instead. You’d probably get a commendation from that fucker in Moscow.”

Illya snorted. “Oleg will not give me commendation if I personally convert all of America to communism.”

Napoleon smiled. “Alright, I’ll give you that.”

“And what makes you think we get caught at this? He is not bugged. I have a disrupter running anyway. He is not tracked. Still would not matter. He is not wanted anywhere for next…” He checked his watch. “Thirty-six hours. I checked, just in case. If you want him gone, we kill him. No one will be any wiser.”

Napoleon honestly looked tempted by this. Sanders eyed him warily. “I am a trained CIA agent and I’m armed, you realize?”

Illya actually laughed at his. Sanders scowled at him. Napoleon stepped in. “Sanders, you haven’t been properly armed since you sat down. I lifted your gun when you walked by me. Anything else you might be carrying, unless it’s an acid or a bomb, is going to be useless. Illya and I are the best of the best for a reason. Don’t give me any more reason to say yes to my partner here than I already have, unless you have a death wish.”

“You can’t kill me. They’d find you out. And you know that I’m going to report in to my superiors about this little stunt and your perverted tendencies and disloyalty.”

Napoleon tilted his head a little, looking back at Sanders with something like curiosity. “Are you really that stupid? I don’t care what the CIA thinks. I’m an UNCLE agent now, and if you think that Waverly won’t fight to keep his best, most efficient team together, you’re mad. You can think what you like about my sex life. I can’t cure stupid and I don’t care to try to cure hate. Maybe you’re repressing and hating in others what exists in yourself. That would be nicely ironic. And as to disloyalty. Sanders…I was blackmailed into working for the CIA. Why on earth would you ever imagine that I was loyal to your pack of trained monkeys in suits?” 

Illya eyed the CIA agent. “What exactly will you tell superiors? You sat around and allowed Russian and thief threaten to kill you without doing anything? That will look good to superiors. Make you look brave, huh? Good luck with this.”

Sanders stared at him, eyes wide. Napoleon smirked. “Hmm. Your bosses don’t like me me very much. They have no confidence in my abilities to do anything, except steal things. They never assigned me wet work for a reason. And Illya here? He’s Russian. He’s a dirty commie, isn’t he? How much confidence will they have in his abilities? They’re too confident in themselves to worry about the KGB’s best. I don’t think they’ll care to hear any of your complaints. But no, we won’t be killing you. Right now.”

Sanders just narrowed his eyes, sneered, and slammed out of the room. 

Napoleon took a deep breath and turned to Illya, who was looking at the floor. “Peril?”

Illya looked up, eyes blank and face expressionless. “What is it, Cowboy?”

“What he said? I—“

“No, I am…accustomed to this. I…I thought that you at least thought better of me, but I—“

“Illya!” The Russia closed his mouth, lips thinning and his eyes dropped back to the floor. Napoleon could see just how deeply Napoleon’s own words had cut. He watched the Russian’s posture grow rigid, distance seeping into the lines of his shoulders. Napoleon exhaled carefully. “Illya…I did. Say those things, but that was…such a long time ago. Before we’d even met. It was the night I took Gaby over the wall. I…I’m sorry. It was a terrible thing to say. And I don’t…You have to know that I…how much I’ve come to…care about you.”

Illya’s eyes snapped up to his. The pain was visible now, a soul-deep wound, but there was a fragile twist of hope present there. When he spoke, he switched to Russian. “I am…unnatural. Many of my colleagues have said so. I am too tall. Too strong. Too easily angered. I am too much of many things.”

Napoleon scowled. He too switched to Russian. “No. None of that is true. Look…I’m sorry. I said horrible things about you before I met you. I was frustrated and tired and I hate Sanders. It combined into a series of very uncomplimentary statements that I never should have made. It’s not an excuse for it. I’m sorry that Sanders used it to hurt you. I’m sorry that I never told you about it to prevent this from happening.” Napoleon breathed in. Wondered if he was making the worst mistake of his life. Continued anyway. “I don’t believe any of it now. I know I was wrong. You’re…God, you’re the best of men. You’re compassionate and caring and fiercely loyal and so honorable that I actually can’t understand you sometimes. You’re…Illya. You’re Illya. You should always be you. Don’t let anyone convince you that you’re something less than what you are. Or that you should be less. Especially not me. Being able to work with you…I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. I know that normally, you wouldn’t even give someone like me the time of day, with very good reason. But circumstances forced us together and I’d give anything never to let you go again.”

Illya’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment and he stopped breathing. Napoleon waited, agonized, expecting a punch to the jaw for his little declaration. He couldn’t probably have sounded more like a lovesick schoolgirl if he’d tried. 

Finally, Illya opened his eyes. They were warmer than Napoleon had ever seen them. “I love you too, Cowboy.”

Napoleon gasped out a laugh and darted forward to press a kiss to Illya’s mouth. He almost wanted to thank Sanders for giving them this opportunity, but then he remembered the look in Illya’s eyes.


End file.
